


Sweet Dreams

by naboru



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smut, Tactile, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:25:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Motormaster regrets letting Breakdown into his quarters, and then he doesn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> **Fandom/Continuity:** G1 Dysfunction AU  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, nothing is mine.  
>  **Beta:** ultharkitty

Motormaster stirred. It was early, his alarm hadn't sounded yet.

He didn’t online his optics, but could feel the small figure next to him, pressed close and clinging to his arm like the night before, only now Breakdown’s grip was relaxed.

Unlike Motormaster, the smaller Stunticon was still asleep. Motormaster wondered how.

Breakdown’s field flared with heat, arousal thick in it, teasing Motormaster’s plating and made it tingle. The Lamborghini’s engine worked loudly, and the ventilation was on a higher setting than normal for recharge.

But the bond didn’t lie; Breakdown had no idea what he was doing to Motormaster.

The truck rubbed over his face, venting deeply. He still had over three hours before he needed to get up. He revved his engine to a growl. “It’s fraggin’ hard to focus on recharge when you’re being like… _that_ ,” he said, and glared at Breakdown.

The Lamborghini didn’t move. Only his energy field flared with an irregular pace, and his lips formed voiceless words.

Looking at the sleeping mech, Motormaster didn’t realise how his own field began to fluctuate and change signature. He was, however, very conscious about shifting his arm and stroking over the smaller mech’s spoiler. It was a light touch, only his fingertips ghosting over the smooth sensitive metal, prompting a soft sigh.

That oh-so-innocent sound made Motormaster’s engine rev. He’d never tell Breakdown, or anyone else, but the other had the ability to turn Motormaster on with the smallest things.

Like that noise, or urging closer and wrapping a leg around Motormaster’s just like he did now.

Motormaster offlined his optics and grimaced. He shouldn’t have let Breakdown in his quarters last night, no matter how anxious he had been.

Breakdown wasn’t even awake so that Motormaster could act on his growing arousal. He could wake him up, but who knew if Breakdown was even up for an interface with him. Plus, the other wasn’t particularly stable.

Motormaster recalled that one time he’d tried to calm him down after he woke up from recharge and it had been a glorious mess. Damaged lights and two offline mechs in the corridor aside, it hadn’t been the most pleasant experience for Motormaster either.

Why he continued to let Breakdown into his quarters after that was something even he couldn’t answer.

Breakdown sighed anew, causing Motormaster to glance down again. Small fingers curled against Motormaster’s plating and purple optics flickered dimly.

“Huh?” Breakdown uttered before he smiled a drowsy smile, and it was all Motormaster could do not to rev his engine.

“You’re awake?” he asked, not trusting the sleepy mech. Who knew, maybe he was like Wildrider who spoke in his sleep sometimes.

“Hmhm.” But Breakdown answered with the slightest nod. “’n you’re warm.” He snuggled closer, and it was really hard to resist the urge to throw Breakdown onto his back and frag him senseless.

Motormaster huffed instead. “Says the one who’s radiating heat like the Nemesis’ generators.”

Breakdown didn’t reply. He merely smiled his drowsy contented smile, and brushed his lips against the metal of Motormaster’s side.

At that, the truck couldn’t hinder his field from flaring hotly. Slowly, he rolled them over, offlining his optics to keep Breakdown from panicking.

He didn’t need to see the red face to know the questioning look Breakdown gave him. The other’s tone was obvious enough. “Motorma-hmmm?“

He interrupted Breakdown with a kiss. It was hard, but not harsh, possessive, but not dominant. Motormaster didn’t need to be dominant.

Breakdown’s hands came up and clung to Motormaster’s upper arm. The smaller mech’s field flared strongly, and Motormaster could only answer with his own.

He broke the kiss, and bit Breakdown’s lower lip before nibbling along the other’s jaw line, then down to his throat. Small vents hitched, and Breakdown squirmed when Motormaster teased a wheel rim, following the form in tingling circles.

When Motormaster extended his energy field again, he got the first moan in reply. An arm wrapped around his neck and Breakdown muttered something unintelligible as he arched up.

“What did you say?” Motormaster asked against warm plating as he paused in kissing his way to Breakdown’s interface panel. He hoped it hadn’t been a plea to stop. It would be so hard to stop now, and Motormaster would need all of the Nemesis’ cold water from the washracks if Breakdown didn’t want him to continue.

The grip around his neck loosened, and a hand was placed on his shoulder, making Motormaster look up at dim optics. Breakdown didn’t look anxious or panicky. 

“I, just,” the Lamborghini muttered as he bent the leg that pressed against Motormaster’s side. “Am I really awake?”

“Why shouldn't you be?” 

“I… I dunno. I dreamed about that…”

Motormaster didn’t reply and resisted a huff – half resignation, half relief.

Cybertronians didn’t dream. Anything resembling dreams were sensor echoes of past memories. But it didn’t really matter what it was; Breakdown had thought about them interfacing during his defrag-cycle. It shouldn’t be such a turn on, but it was.

“Dream in a good way?” he asked as he pinched the tyre.

Breakdown nodded, venting a ragged sigh. “The best way,” he said, and made Motormaster growl posessively. Breakdown’s small smile returned for a moment, before he reached up to pull Motormaster into another kiss - slow and sensual, morphing into heated when both their fields flared hard.

Motormaster dug his fingers into the soft covering of the berth, and stroked with his other hand from the tyre down the other’s side. He reached the seam of the interface panel, caressing it only slightly as it opened with a click under his hand. The interface hardware was smooth, the connector thrumming with charge, and Breakdown mumbled at the touch something that sounded like “please”. Motormaster’s engine revved, and Breakdown’s own stuttered as both their energy fields flared.

Motormaster felt the signatures morphing, changing, but only for an astrosecond or two, before the pleasure hit him when their fields mingled to one. He gasped, and Breakdown arched up, muttering needily, “Don’t make me wait.”

Oh frag, Breakdown would be the death of him one day. His own cover had opened without him realising, and he fished for his connector. His impatience made his hand shake, and he needed three attempts to plug in.

The arousal and charge rushed from him, and Breakdown moaned loudly.

It felt like an eternity until Motormaster completed the interface, but once Breakdown’s connector clicked into place all that was forgotten and pleasure took over. Not only rushing charge and lit up sensors, but also a level of intimacy only his team could provide. It was like coming home, the bond resonating, thrumming inside them as it synched their systems.

A warmth spread, one that was even better when Breakdown let Motormaster’s stream through unfiltered. His firewalls were still up - Breakdown never dropped them - but stopping his filters from analysing the foreign stream was as close to opening up completely as Breakdown would ever get.

Motormaster kissed the smaller mech harder. He would never admit how much he liked it, how much he needed it, but he guessed Breakdown knew anyway.

Arms clung around Motormaster’s neck, legs around his waist and red lips uttered moans and sighs, or aroused whines of pleasure.

Motormaster had shut off his optics again. Not on purpose, but he didn’t need to see the other when they were close like that. He sensed a few astroseconds before it happened that Breakdown’s engine would shift, and then it did. The vibrations started low and hard and changed slightly into a different gear. It shook Motormaster to his core as charge grew and sensations were amplified by the open bond and interface.

His fingers dug harder into the berth, almost penetrating the cover. Their kiss broke as Breakdown clung even tighter, fingers scratching over Motormaster’s back, his red face hidden into the truck’s thick throat cables.

Motormaster let out a groan. He was close, too. Their overload approached quickly now, and he wasn’t sure he’d have the control to hold on much longer.

His arm found its way to Breakdown’s back, his hand on the spoiler as he lifted the smaller mech up.

Breakdown uttered a stream of words, mumbling against Motormaster’s throat, but the truck didn’t understand them. Charge made his audio sensors ring, and his processor cloudy. Thinking was hard under the constant assault of pleasure on his sensor net, and he didn’t anticipate the next change of Breakdown’s engine.

It thrummed, then revved. The Lamborghini gasped Motormaster’s name and overloaded hard.

The rush through the interface was strong and hot. It made Motormaster topple over the edge as well, shaking their frames and the berth as his engine howled in a charged rev.

A flood of sensations lit their frames, dampened their thoughts and made their cooling fans whir loudly. But all this was secondary to the intimacy reaching its climax as Motormaster felt the trust bleeding from Breakdown into him, just like he gave the promise for protection in return. It was a warmth beneath all the piercing heat and pleasure, but it stayed with them longer than the intensity of overload.

They remained like that for a while. Their intakes worked frantically to cool their frames, but it was in vain; they were too close to each other, their plating still heated.

Finally, Motormaster rolled to his side, dragging Breakdown with him. The smaller mech didn’t protest.

Sleepiness came through from Breakdown’s side of the interface, and it was affecting Motormaster as well.

“Better than my dream,” Breakdown mumbled, his head on Motormaster’s chest, his optics offline.

Motormaster huffed, but didn’t reply.

It took him longer than Breakdown to get back to recharge.

* * *

When Motormaster stirred again, it was because of his alarm had gone off.

He didn’t need to online his optics to know who was lying next to him. A small figure pressed close like earlier that night.

Breakdown must have slid down during his sleep.

With a sigh, Motormaster sat up. He told himself it was insufficient recharge that made him not want to leave his berth.

There was no other reason at all. Nope.


End file.
